


castles in the air

by bubbleteabunny



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 00:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13647465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleteabunny/pseuds/bubbleteabunny
Summary: You travel together through the universe Peter dreams into existence every night.





	castles in the air

He first dreamed of you when he was five. His head hit the pillow and he was out like a light. And he was dreaming he was an astronaut in outer space, his breaths echoing in his helmet, the only noise in the wide expanse. Then you’d floated into view, in a suit of your own, waving enthusiastically with a large grin. You traversed this make-believe universe together, and Peter woke up the next day thinking he’d like to see you again. He told Aunt May and Uncle Ben about you, and they’d smiled and asked him questions and without realizing it he was building you up. He drew you in your space suit with crayons and for years your picture remained on the refrigerator. He truly tried his best to capture the essence of your smile, and he figured he did a good job.

That’s not the last he sees of you. At first you’re only in some of his dreams, sailing the sea like Blackbeard or pretending to be Indiana Jones in some ancient temple with no history except what the two of you come up with. But then you show up more often, until you’re there to greet him every night he passes the threshold into your domain, asking what adventures he’d like to go on this time.

You grow older with him but your smile stays the same. Most of his dreams have mellowed out as of late, shifting from galactic travel to being stuck in a classroom and handed a test he forgot about and failed to study for. Those dreams always make his heart drop down into his stomach. He’s more inclined to call them nightmares. And you’ll be sitting in the corner of the classroom, the only other occupant besides himself and the faceless teacher at the front, trying to quietly stifle giggles because you too vividly remember diving into the Marianas like it was yesterday. How times change.

It’s a calm dream tonight, both of you on the shore bordering a crystal sea with no end in sight. The sunset hasn’t moved the whole time, reds and yellows painted forever over your heads. You teasingly tell him he’s getting so old now and Peter chuckles and tells you that so are you.

“I guess I am…” you concede with a grin, laying back on the warm sand and feeling blood rush to your head as you gaze up at the sky.

Peter leans back and braces himself on his hands. It might be said that you are his soul manifested because you know him like no other. He’s told you all his secrets and all his fears, and there have been plenty in the many years you’ve been together. You listened and hurt when he hurt and felt joy when he did. And it truly occurs to him in this moment you’re not actually  _real_ , and his heart squeezes because you’re real to him. He’s never been so sure about anything than he has about your existence. But maybe he’s just fooling himself, not willing to admit to the reality of the situation because he’s scared if he acknowledges it, you’ll fade away.

With a quiet sigh, he glances at you, but you’re already watching him. Your eyes are soft and for once the smile is absent from your face, lips instead set in a thin line which betrays no emotion but he already knows you know what he’s thinking. He asks his question anyway, as if it might change things, and you answer as if your words too have any hold on the universe beyond what Peter conjures in his dreams every night.

“You won’t leave, will you?” The crash of waves fills the silence that follows.

You stare at each other for a few moments, and then you smile slightly. “I’ve been here this long, haven’t I?” But the light in your eyes is already looking the smallest bit dimmer, and Peter’s angry he had entertained the thought in the first place.

The picture on the fridge has moved to the cork board in Peter’s bedroom, on the wall above his desk. He stares at it when he’s doing his homework and he needs to take a break for at least a minute, because if he doesn’t, his brain might melt. He set his head on his propped up hand and smiles tiredly as he looks at the drawing, at your white space suit and what vaguely looks like Saturn behind you, for the first time he met you, you’d been floating past a planet with rings. The longer he stays like this, the sleepier he gets, and his eyelids are drooping. He figures he might as well take a nap since he could actually see you then, rather than just study a drawing of you.

Before he can close his eyes, the flash of a glittering star falling through the sky outside his window grabs his attention. It’s only in his line of sight for a few seconds before it disappears behind tall buildings. Peter wonders if it made it to the ground or if it burned up before it could get too close. He meets you on a mountaintop later that evening and asks you where you think it landed, and if someone might’ve found it. You smile and tell him it’s landed right where it’s meant to be. He never actually understood what you were getting at with that statement, but you did have a tendency to be rather poetic (a talent, he’d jokingly remarked, he wished he had too).

The subject of the shooting star is forgotten after that, and Peter thinks it’s for good, until you bring it up again a few days later.  _Did you wish for anything?_ That’s what you ask, and Peter grins and wants you to guess, but you only laugh. There’s only one obvious answer but it does warm your heart knowing what it is.

“I don’t think you need a star for me stick around forever, Peter,” you say softly. 

Peter shrugs. “Maybe, but it’s the only wish I’ve really ever had.” He hopes you know how special you are, that he should ask the universe to keep you with him. A majority of his life has been spent with you in the passenger seat and he can’t imagine it empty. He needs you. He will always need you. He hasn’t given you his heart because you are his heart, and you cleared all the fears in his head to make room for the dreams where you can be together. Three words sit on the tip of his tongue as they have been for a long while now, but he doesn’t say them. He doesn’t have to.

Instructions for a book report are handed out in English one gloomy Friday, so Peter heads to the bookstore after class to pick up a copy of Bram Stoker’s  _Dracula_. He’s been meaning to read that one for a while now.

He asks an employee where he can find it, and she guides him there, sliding the novel off the shelf and handing it to him. With a smile he says thanks, and she nods and says you’re welcome before she returns to the help desk. He stands there looking over the book, turning it to the back so he can read the summary.

Someone enters this aisle from the other side, and he catches the movement in his peripherals. He glances up at the newcomer, and it’s only a second, but then he thinks that side profile seemed familiar, so he looks up again. You turn to him when you feel him staring and smile the smile he’s always seen in his dreams, what he’d missed every time he woke up and what he’d looked forward to each time he laid down at the end of the day. And then he notices the book you’re holding:  _The Martian_ by Andy Weir. There’s an astronaut on the cover.

Peter walks over to you, almost feeling like he’s floating, and he’s desperately hoping this isn’t just a dream. But then he introduces himself, and your grin widens, and suddenly there’s no more breath in his lungs. And he knows there is nothing more real than this.


End file.
